The Pirouette Of The Firefly

Fireflies pirouette on angst of black sky.

Darkness shimmers loudly in it silence.

A moons haze creeps through broken windows.

Little dreams now fade and fall from a pillow.

Whereunto goes this call which slips without sigh?

Beyond stars; past now a golden stream; where?

Not here said the night man, tis not on the day found here.

Yet it is hidden beyond reach within vastness of the mind.

So heavy hearts now lie beneath the angst of a black sky.

Dreamers dream little dreams from behind broken windows.

And the night man chases the pirouetting of the firefly.

J. Allen Wilson © 2007